"But I thought they could not possibly be there."

"They got there," answered Wanda, "by some ill chance, from Petersburg,
just in time."

And as she spoke she shook hands with Cartoner.

"It is not such an ill chance, after all," said Deulin, "since it gives
us the opportunity of seeing you. Where is your father?"

"He is in his study."

"I rather want to see him," said Deulin, looking at Martin.

"Come along, then," was the answer. "He will be glad to see you. It will
cheer him up."

And Wanda and Cartoner were left alone. It had all come about quickly
and simply--so much quicker and simpler than human plans are the plans
of Heaven.

Wanda, still standing in the doorway of the conservatory, of which the
warm, scented air swept out past her into the great room, watched her
brother and Deulin go and close the door behind them. She turned to
Cartoner with a smile as if about to speak; but she saw his face, and
she said nothing, and her own slowly grew grave.

He came towards her, upright and still and thoughtful. She did not look
at him, but past him towards the closed door. He only looked at her with
quiet, remembering eyes. Then he went straight to the point, as was his
habit.

"I was wrong," he said, "when I said that fate could be hampered by
action. Nothing can hamper it. For fate has brought me here again."

He stood before her, and the attitude in some way conveyed that by the
word "here" he only thought and meant near to her. There was a strange
look in her eyes of suspense and fear, and something else which needs
no telling to such as have seen it, and cannot be conveyed in words to
those who have not.

"A clear understanding," he said abruptly, recalling her own words.
"That is your creed."

She gave a little nod, and still looked past him towards the door
with deep, submissive eyes. One would have thought that she had done
something wrong which was being brought home to her. Explain the
thought, who can!

"I made another mistake," he said. "Have been acting on it for years.
I thought that a career was everything. I dreamed, I suppose, of an
embassy--of a viceroyalty, perhaps--when I was quite young, and thought
the world was easy to conquer. All that . . . vanished when I saw you.
If it comes, well and good. I should like it. Not for my own sake."

She made a little movement, and her eyelids flickered. Ah! that clear
understanding, which poor humanity cannot put into words!

"If it doesn't